


Rogue Reindeer

by Sam KW (samudee)



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gen, Humor, mush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samudee/pseuds/Sam%20KW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's the  mysterious gift Hutch is hiding from Starsky?<br/>And a case that has to be solved before Christmas. Did a reindeer really steal money?<br/>Contains friendship and love, a little bit of mush and a funny case story, and a lot of dialogue/thoughts of what makes our guys who they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rogue Reindeer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [provencepuss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/provencepuss/gifts).



**_A week before Christmas._ **

For Hutch, the best way to relax after a long day would have been to lose himself in the silence of his greenhouse and pretend he's in a rain forest. Starsky would've rocked 'n' rolled all night long at his usual disco rather than play a virgin in Hutch's forest. But this Friday night Starsky and Hutch were enjoying their cold beer at Hutch's apartment. Starsky settled on watching Jeopardy, and Hutch had to be content with it. 

"Not the brightest color in the crayon box," said Hutch, getting comfortable on the large sofa. "He could have got away with all the stuff he robbed so easily, but he had to open his big mouth in front of a feisty old lady and announce that the gun he was pointing at them was just a water pistol."

"Yup," agreed Starsky understanding that Hutch was thinking of John Wilson, a criminal he and Hutch arrested for an armed robbery at Janelle Jewelers earlier that day. An old lady had saved the day by punching the robber in the face and stopping him from robbing the store.

"Lucky break for Janelle to have dear old Mrs. Henderson in the store," said Hutch.

"Mrs. Henderson's father was a professional boxer, and he had taught her everything he knew." Starsky had had been deeply engrossed in conversation with Mrs. Henderson, and she told him all about her "boxing" experiences. "She still can throw a mean punch," said Starsky, grinning from ear to ear. He placed his beer on the coffee table and turned towards his partner. "So… what is it?" he asked.

"What is _what_?" asked Hutch.

"What's the brightest color in the crayon box?" Starsky asked. 

Hutch rolled his eyes. "Starsky, it's just a figure of speech."

"Yes, but I'm asking you, anyway."

"Why does it matter?" 

"Just because! So tell me-- come on, Hutch." Starsky wouldn't quit until he got his answer, and Hutch should've known it by now. Starsky wished Hutch would stop wasting his time and words.

Hutch thought for a while. "Yellow," he said. 

Hutch may have hoped to end the conversation, but Starsky had other plans. "Yellow? _Yellow_? Oh, come on, you really don't think _that_ , do you?"

Hutch stopped gulping his beer and threw Starsky the well-known Hutchinson stare.

"Do you want to know what I think the brightest color is?" Starsky asked, wondering why Hutch was glaring at him.

"I know already," said Hutch smugly. "I don't have to be the brightest color in the crayon box to know that, Starsky." 

"Did you even have one?" Starsky asked, ignoring Hutch's sarcasm.

"One what?" 

"A crayon box." 

"Of course I did. I love drawing." 

"Really?" Starsky was surprised. "What did you draw? How come I've never seen your drawings?"

"Because I haven't done one for years and years."

"Why not?"

"I never had time." 

"Well… then do one during the holidays-- It's not like you have any special plans for Christmas, anyway."

Hutch thought for a while. "Maybe I will," he said, grinning mischievously.

***

**_Three days before Christmas._ **

Hutch never believed in miracles, magic, or in little green men who lived under the rainbow. Starsky, on the other hand, loved chasing rainbows; not so much to find a pot of gold at the end, but to discover the exact right spot to get the best view. Nan told little Davey that it wasn't a matter of where he was going, but where he was coming from. She said he would understand when he grew up. Starsky still had a long way to go.

Captain Dobey stormed into the squad room. "We've got a strange one this morning! An old man was robbed. He thinks a reindeer stole his money."

Starsky didn't want the Captain to interrupt his train of thoughts about the mischievous folks who loved to drink, sing, and dance all day long. _My kind of people_ , thought Starsky, _or were they more like Hutch's? Aloof and keeps to themselves, lives--_

_"Starsky!"_

"Yes, Cap'n." Starsky was out of his chair instantly.

"Were you listening to what I was saying?"

"Of course," Starsky said confidently. "A leprechaun stole some gold from a reindeer." 

The rest of the detectives in the squad room, including Hutch, roared with laughter.  

Starsky turned around, confused. "What?"

Matters were serious when Dobey's expression turned thunderous. He inhaled and exhaled heavily. "All right, that's enough," he said, waving his arm around. "This is your case." 

"But Cap'n, we don't handle robbery cases," Starsky complained.

"You do, _now_." Dobey threw a file on Starsky's desk. "It's Christmas, after all. You wouldn’t want an innocent old man to be penniless for Christmas, would you?" 

Hutch strolled over lazily and picked up the file from Starsky's desk. "Well, Starsky, you'd need a lot more than the luck a green Irish fairy would ever bring your way to solve this case," he said, reading through the notes. 

"Gimme that." Starsky grabbed the file and hopped onto his desk, resting his feet on the chair. 

****

Hutch always stole Starsky's fries. Starsky never failed to get two orders of the stuff so that he could grumble and pretend he was annoyed when Hutch kept on munching through his food. He didn't like missing out on his Required Daily Intake of Grease. 

"How come you criticize my eating habits, and then manage to eat half of my lunch?" asked Starsky, pushing Hutch's arm away from his burger. 

"I'm _trying_ here, Starsk, I'm trying to keep you healthy by volunteering to reduce that fat intake of yours," said Hutch, popping more fries in his mouth. 

"Volunteering, _my ass_ ," grumbled Starsky. 

"No, I wouldn’t even think of that," Hutch said under his breath.

"Huh?"

"I said we should get going if you want to catch that leprechaun of yours," Hutch said, getting up and zipping up his black leather jacket. 

***

Starsky and Hutch visited Mr. Watson who claimed he lost all of his money the previous night. He lived at the Green Sun retirement community in the Northern part of the city. He was a silver-haired, seventy-year-old man, who had been living by himself since his wife passed away a couple of years back.

"It's gone. It's all gone," cried Watson, removing his glasses and wiping a tear that rolled down his wrinkled cheek. "And I heard those bells outside my window. He came inside my house. I saw him. I heard the bells." 

Starsky picked up the tissue box that was on the small dining table, and carried it over to the old man sitting on the worn out couch. "Who came inside, Mr. Watson?" asked Starsky, placing a couple of tissues in his hands. 

Mr. Watson formed his hands into fists around the tissues. "They didn't believe me. Why should you?" Bringing his shaky hands filled with scrunched tissues to his face, he sniffed and blew his nose. 

Starsky sighed, stealing glances at Hutch while he was checking the door locks. Hutch turned around and shook his head at Starsky. Starsky nodded, understanding Hutch's silent communication. _No signs of breaking and entering_.

"Mr. Watson," Starsky said kindly. "Tell us everything that happened. My partner and I will do everything to find what you lost."

"My money. All of it. It's g-- g-- gone," Mr. Watson sobbed. 

"Where did you keep it?"

"In here, with me. And now it's gone. My bed's gone, too." 

Hutch stood behind Mr. Watson and mouthed," _Bed?_ "

Starsky frowned. This was the first time they heard anything about a bed gone missing. "Mr. Watson, I think we didn't quite get that in the report. So, did you say you lost your _bed_ _?_ "

"Not the whole bed. Just the mattress."

"The mattress?" asked Starsky.

"And the cushions on my chairs. He took all of them while I was in the bathroom."

Hutch rolled his eyes. He walked over to Starsky and the old man. "Mr. Watson, did you hide your money in your mattress?"

"Yes."

Starsky sighed deeply. Why on earth did Mr. Watson believe that his whole life savings would be safe with him, and not in a bank? 

"I don't trust banks," Mr. Watson said as if he could read Starsky's mind. "But I still lost it."

"Earlier, you said you saw _him_. Can you describe him, this thief who stole your money?" Starsky asked.

Mr. Watson turned towards Starsky. His eyes were all teary. "He was dark brown or red. I'm not sure."

"Red? You mean he was wearing a red suit?"

"He had red… brown--" Mr. Watson paused for a second and continued. "Fur." 

" _Fur?_ Mr. Watson… Did a reindeer steal your money?" Starsky asked gently.

Mr. Watson nodded, dabbing at his eyes. 

Hutch sighed and sat beside Mr. Watson. "Are you sure it wasn't a man in some costume?"

"Reindeer and… sleigh bells," Watson said dejectedly. "No one believes me."

"We believe you," Starsky said firmly. "I saw one myself when I was a kid. I even saw his footprints in the snow next morning." 

Hutch narrowed his eyes, amusement lurking beneath, and was about to make a comment when Starsky flashed him a grave stare.

Hutch grudgingly revised his stance and remained silent.

Mr. Watson stared at Starsky for a while. "Only one with a pure heart will see him. You're very kind, Detective. But I'm afraid this reindeer was up to no good." Mr. Watson wiped his glasses using the edge of his shirt and put them back on.

Leaving Starsky to deal with the old gentlemen, Hutch stood up, pulling out his note book and patting down his pockets.

Before he could reach and search Starsky's clothing, Starsky produced a pen out of his jacket. Snatching it, Hutch walked out of the room. "I'm going to check with other residents," he said aloud, and then lowered his voice. "To check whether they spotted any reindeer-driven armored cars during the past couple of days."

Watching Hutch's tall figure disappear from view, Starsky turned back to Mr. Watson. "Did you see any elves by chance?" he asked.

*****

Hutch didn’t think much of Christmas or Santa Claus or all the bells and whistles that came with him. Starsky, on the other hand, embraced Christmas whole-heartedly, with all its trumpets and violins, and, of course, the jingle bells. 

"What do you mean there's no Santa Claus?" Starsky asked when he and Hutch were back at the station, later that day.

"Well, Starsk, looks like you never got the speech about what’s real and what's not, and what to believe, and what not to wish for ~~,~~ when you were a kid."

"Of course I got the speech, but it was very different from your version."

"I bet," muttered Hutch. "You don't really believe that a reindeer stole Mr. Watson's money, do you?"

"I believe what he saw."

"What he _thought_ he saw. Watson is an old man. His eyesight is bad, and he forgets. Put two and two together and--"

"He lost his bed, Hutch. Someone took it away." Shaking his head in annoyance, Starsky studied Hutch's notebook that had a list of people who had visited Mr. Watson during the weekend. "Someone knew where he kept his money. He heard someone and he saw someone." 

"Yes. But that cannot be a reindeer. That's all I'm saying."

"He sure is a popular guy. I rarely get any visitors," Starsky mumbled, his eyes still skimming the visitor list. "I can’t even count you as a visitor. That leaves Huggy, Kiko, Molly--"

"Starsky!!" 

"Huh?" 

" _Focus_. Will you?"

"Okay," Starsky said annoyingly. "Okay. So do you know Minnie's friend?"

"Who?" Hutch asked, confused. 

"Holley. You have written here, _Holley visited Mr. Watson with Minnie_. You don’t think our Minnie had anything to do with this, do you? "

Hutch sighed. "Starsk. Minnie is a _cat_."

"Since when? Last time I saw Minnie was--"

Hutch raised his index finger and Starsky pursed his lips together. Hutch was typing an overdue report and that wasn't a good time for interruptions. 

Starsky turned his attention to the list of visitors.

 _Holley with Minnie; Jenny, the nurse; James, the food-delivery boy; Edward, the one and only son of Watson. Why did all these people visit Watson on this day? Was it his birthday?_ Starsky wondered whether Hutch had mentioned anything, but didn’t see any notes related to a birthday or any other special occasion.

 _Holley, Watson's niece, visited Watson with Minnie, the cat._

And what if the cat stole the money? There are _cat_ _burglars_ , right? Well… that term couldn’t have been invented just because cats could prowl unnoticed. A cat may have stolen something big, once upon a time.

Looking away from the notes, Starsky chewed on his pencil. Now what type of a cat was it? Was it a he or a she? _Not Holley, but the cat_. 

Starsky had to meet Holley and Minnie, _the cat_ _!_ They may have had something to do with all this missing money. Starsky's plans dissolved when he read the next scribbled sentences. 

_Holley was scheduled to leave Bay City on the 10.30 am flight to Florida._

That was way before Hutch had been picking on Starsky's lunch. If she had to do anything with the robbery, then probably by now the money was en route to Florida.

Starsky spat away the pieces of pencil. He wished pencils tasted like chocolate. 

_A cat couldn't carry a mattress and cushions-- Not even if she (or he) had a human's help._

And then he saw the next note. 

_The cat had a jingle bell tied around its neck._

_Aha! A jingle bell_ \-- Starsky looked hard. _Was it just one?_ He frowned. Watson said sleigh bells. _And that's not just one_. _That's a whole set of jingle bells. And no cat could have carried a dozen jingle bells around its neck._ Unless Minnie was a panther!

_A panther could've carried a mattress, too._

Now he was getting somewhere.

_The red-brown fur?_

A panther is pitch-black in color. _Unless… yes!!!_

Smiling to himself Starsky drew two stars in front of Holley and Minnie. 

Was it just a coincidence that Holley lived in Florida, she owned a cat that she brought with her, and that Florida panthers were brown in color? Starsky didn't think so!

"Hey, Hutch. Umm… this Minnie. Do you know what type of a cat she is?" Starsky asked.

"A tortoiseshell," Hutch answered without taking his eyes off the report he was typing. 

"When did Minnie turn into a tortoise? You said she's a cat." 

Hutch raised his head and glared at Starsky. His icy blue eyes were glinting dangerously. "I--" Hutch inhaled sharply. "You--" he exhaled. "T-t-take that list--" he stammered.

"Hey, _hey_ … calm down," Starsky said hurriedly. "I just asked a very simple question. I just wanted to know whether Minnie is a cat, a tortoise, or a panther."

" _Panther_?" Hutch exclaimed. "Where did that come from?" he asked and then added quickly, "No. I don’t want to know." Hutch stood up and grabbed his coat from the chair. "That mind of yours-- just--" Hutch grit his teeth. "If you think that a panther is allowed to roam around the city, and if you believe that reindeer go around stealing money, I think it's time for me to retire." Hutch stormed out of the squad room.

Watching the door close with a bang, which was more his own style, Starsky shrugged and turned around to find someone who could tell him of any connection between panthers and tortoises.

***

**_Two days before Christmas._ **

Hutch was working on something, and he was also hiding that _something_ from Starsky. That _something_ was in Hutch's bedroom. Hutch had kept his bedroom locked for almost a week now. Of course, Starsky could pick any lock, but to his annoyance **,** Hutch had made sure that Starsky was never at Venice Place when Hutch wasn't around. 

All of this started a few days after talking about crayon boxes and drawings. Hutch had said that he was working on a gift for Starsky. Did he really mean that? Was he really drawing something for him? Starsky couldn't wait to see what it was. 

"Hey, Hutch. I think I left my blue t-shirt in your room," said Starsky, glancing at Hutch's locked bedroom. He had come over to Hutch's apartment armed with a pizza for dinner. 

"Not going to work, Starsk. And there are no t-shirts of yours in there," said Hutch, placing the pizza slices on plates for Starsky and him. 

Starsky paced to and fro about Hutch's apartment. He had tried to sneak into Hutch's bedroom a couple of times, but failed. He tried to coax his partner to unlock the bedroom door when he was around, but again, failed. This time, it looked like Hutch had everything under control. Starsky couldn't wait until Christmas to find out. 

_He just couldn't!_

So next morning, Starsky entered Venice Place when Hutch was in the shower. Hutch's bedroom was locked even at that time of the day. _Hutch just assumed too much_.

Grinning mischievously, Starsky reached in his pocket to retrieve the wallet in which he had his little lock-picking wire stashed. He was in Hutch's room in no time.

Starsky gasped at what stood in the middle of the room. He couldn't believe his eyes. A painting; just like Hutch had said he would do, but what he had drawn was not exactly what Starsky had hoped for. 

_A red tomato! You got to be kidding me._

It really was a big red tomato, with a big white stripe running across, just like the one on his beloved Torino. _But how could Hutch do something like this?_

Why did Hutch have to be such a Grinch? This is Christmas, for crying out loud.

 _Well,_ Starsky sighed. _Good that I already know what my Christmas gift is. Now I won't be disappointed when I see this under the tree. I will act surprised, and happy, and pleased!_

Starsky scoffed. _Pleased, right!_

Starsky came out of the bedroom, closed the door, and got out of Hutch's apartment before Hutch came out of the shower. 

Starsky drove to Metro with the car radio going at full blast. He sang along with _the Who_ , masking his disappointment over the unexpected to-be-Christmas gift.

 _I'll tip my hat to the new constitution -- Take a bow for the new revolution_  
Smile and grin at the change all around me  
Pick up my guitar and play -- Just like yesterday  
And I'll get on my knees and pray -- We don't get fooled again **...**

Wasn't the same way of getting fooled, but… it's still getting fooled. Starsky wanted to look, sound, and act cheerful by the time Hutch showed up at the Metro. He planned to go and question the suspects of the Watson robbery that morning.

***

Hutch never ignored his partner's hunches during cases. Starsky's relationship with his digestive tract ran deeper than the connection it had with food. Those decoded gut feelings had saved his and his partner's lives countless times.

"I'm sure Holley had _somethin' to_ do with this whole thing. I just know it, Hutch," said Starsky. "I'm gonna talk to Watson."

"You do that. I'll talk to the nurse and the delivery guy to see whether they noticed anything out of the ordinary earlier that day." 

Mr. Watson was in his room, watching The Price is Right. Starsky joined him on the couch. 

"Did you find my money, Detective?" Watson asked hopefully. 

"Not yet, Mr. Watson," Starsky said apologetically. 

"I understand. It's not easy to find a moose in this part of the city."

"A moose?" 

"The one that stole my money."

Starsky sighed. He was glad Hutch wasn't around. 

"Would you mind telling me about Holley and her visit?" asked Starsky although he doubted that Watson would provide any useful information.

"Why? Why are you asking about my niece? She has nothing to do with this."

"I'm sure she loves you very much, Mr. Watson. But this is common procedure. We have to know about everyone who visited you during these couple of days."

"Oh, all right. Well… Holley was here on both Saturday and Sunday. She was finishing that for me." Mr. Watson pointed to a beautiful quilt on the wall. "She embroidered her childhood memories on to it. Come I'll show you." 

Mr. Watson heaved himself up from the couch and wobbled towards the wall decoration. "This shows how I used to read her bedtime stories." Mr. Watson ran his fingers through one square. "She spent every minute she could spare with us. This is how I pushed her on the swing. She wanted to swing right over the tree branches. Ah…" Mr. Watson smiled, adjusting his glasses that slipped down on to his nose. "She's the daughter I never had, that Holley." He was lost in his own thoughts touching the memories that were lovingly pieced together. 

_Holley, who went through the pains of taking the time and patience of creating something as lovely as this for her uncle would never do anything to hurt him, now, would she?_ Starsky debated. He decided to move to the next suspect on his list, for now.

"Mr. Watson, tell me about Edward," Starsky asked. "Does he always visit you during the weekend?"

Mr. Watson's demeanor changed completely; his smile disappeared and he looked sad. "I don't want to talk about him." He walked back to the sofa and lowered himself onto the couch, slowly, ignoring his old protesting bones. "He comes to see me when he needs something." 

"Like money?" Starsky asked, gently.

Watson nodded. 

"Did you give him any money this time?"

"No." Watson shook his head. "I didn't want to show him where I kept the money. But he knows I don't trust banks."

"Does Edward have a key to this cottage, Mr. Watson?"

Mr. Watson clutched his hands together, tightly. "He's not that bad, Detective. He's my son." Watson turned his head towards his bedroom. 

Following Watson's cue, Starsky walked up to the bedroom door. There laid a new mattress on the bed. 

***

**_One day before Christmas._ **

Hutch understood all about father-son relationships going sour. It wasn't a matter of nurture or lack thereof. It was just the nature. Starsky was heartbroken over losing his father, and had watched helplessly when another carved dents into his partner's spirit throughout the years.

Edward lived in the same city, but didn't care to visit his father at least once a week, whereas Watson's niece comes all the way from Florida, three or four times a year to visit him. Yet, Edward was kind enough to buy his father a new bed when the community manager informed him about the robbery. Was it an act of kindness or guilt?

"I didn't take his money," Edward said adamantly, when Starsky and Hutch met with him at his workplace. He was the manager of Bay City United Bank. "I wanted Dad to put his savings in a bank, but he never listened to me."

"In _your_ bank, Mr. Edward?" asked Starsky. No wonder Watson didn't trust banks. 

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" Edward hissed out a breath. "It's all gone. I knew she would get it from him." 

" _She_ _?_ " Hutch asked. 

"Holley. That was all what she wanted. That's why she visited him."

"Are you accusing Holley of stealing your father's money? Do you think she carried the mattress away that night?"

"I- I- I I'm not telling you that she carried the mattress, but I'm sure she stole the money."

Hutch and Starsky exchanged glances. They were onto something. Edward knew something about the incident that he didn't want to reveal.

"Could you re-phrase that for us, Mr. Edward?"

"I… I-I'm just s-s-saying that she was with him all the time on Saturday and Sunday. _Working on a quilt_ _?_ Come on! Why would Dad need a quilt, anyway? He wouldn't even see properly what she had sewn in there." His anger surfaced quick and intense; he looked as if he was about kick something or break some furniture in his office. Edward pushed off his chair furiously. "It was just an excuse so that she could get her hands on the money whenever she got an opportunity. I don't know where my Dad kept his money. He never told me. He could have even forgotten himself about the places he hide his money. He forgets a lot, you know." 

"Sure," Hutch agreed, keeping his tone light. "Can you tell us where you were on Sunday night, Mr. Edward?"

"I didn't steal his money. I swear. I haven't seen any of it."

"Well, then, it won’t be too much of a problem to reveal your whereabouts, Mr. Edward -- would it?" said Starsky.

"All bank employees including me were at the Little Stars children orphanage. Every year we sponsor a Christmas party for them and it was done last Sunday."

"When did you leave the orphanage?"

"I don't know. I don’t remember. May be around ten that evening. I wasn't paying attention to the time, detectives. If I knew I was going to be a suspect for robbery I would have recorded every minute and second of my day."

No one knew exactly when the robbery occurred because Mr. Watson had not reported the theft immediately. According to the community manager, Watson had not called the police, but had come to his office the next day morning to report the stolen money. He had said that someone had broken in the night and taken his money, but had no idea what time it had taken place.

Just as Starsky and Hutch turned around to leave, one of the tellers knocked on Edward's office door and walked in. 

"Yes, Justin?" Edward asked.

"Melanie is taking the costumes to the dry cleaners," said, Justin, picking up a big box that lay beside Edward's desk. "This can go with her."

"Sure. Go ahead."

Justin picked up a box and walked out of the door. 

Starsky stopped Justin at the door. "Costumes?" he asked. "What's in this box?"

"Oh, this is Mr. Edward's costume. He makes a good Santa. Kids love him."

"Santa, huh?" said Starsky, taking the box from Justin's hands and putting it back on the floor. He opened the box and inside was a bright red, neatly folded cloak of Santa. He pulled the garment out and gave it to Hutch.

Hutch peeked in to the box and smiled. "I think we found Rudolph," he said, picking up a bundle of sleigh bells that lay at the bottom of the box. 

"Mr. Edward." Starsky turned towards the bank manager. "Would you mind telling us, _again_ , where you were on Sunday night?"

******

A puzzle is something that could be solved if you knew the vocabulary and the correct combinations. A maze is a web where you have to find your way out, and right now, Hutch didn't like either of them. Starsky wanted to find the right pieces to solve the puzzle so that he and Hutch could get out of this maze of wilderness and go home before Christmas.

Edward confessed to taking the mattress and cushions away from his father, but insisted that there was no money in them. After the Christmas celebration at the orphanage, he had driven across town to the retirement community. He had removed the sleigh bells that were attached to his belt and left them in the car and opened the door to Watson's cottage with the key he had. He still had his Santa costume on him. 

Most of the pieces of the puzzle fell into place but the key piece was still missing, and Starsky and Hutch were still trapped in a maze.

"Holley. You have to get hold of Holley. She took all of it. There wasn't anything in the mattress. I was just too late. I wanted Dad to put the money in the bank. I wanted to make sure no one would steal it from him."

"But you wanted to get your hands on that money, Edward," Hutch said harshly. "You stole his mattress with the intentions of taking the money." 

"Doesn't matter now. It's all gone, anyway."

Signaling Hutch to meet him outside, Starsky left Edward's office. There was no direct evidence linking Edward to the money. Even if he took the mattress away, he replaced it with a new one. The old mattress might be lying somewhere in the land fill. They couldn't arrest Edward for stealing a mattress. The money was still missing, and Starsky grudgingly believed that it was not with Edward. 

"So… you were right all along. Holley must be the one who stole it." Hutch joined his partner outside.

"She was with Watson during the weekend, and she had plenty of time to get the money away from him. But… she would know that she would be the prime suspect -- so why take the risk?"

"So you don’t believe it's her, either?"

"She--" Starsky shook his head frustratingly. There was something very simple that he wasn't seeing here. Everything was right in front of him, but he couldn’t see it. "I don't know. She seems to be a good person, Hutch. Watson's whole face lit up when he talked about her." 

"Maybe Holley put up a good show for Watson. People are not always what they seem ~~s~~ to be, Starsk."

"Don't you think Watson would know if Holley was all pretense? Wouldn't _you_ know the difference between real love and fake affection?" Starsky asked. Clearly, Holley was not in his list of suspects anymore.

Hutch laid his arm on Starsky's shoulder. " _I_ know what's real," he said, squeezing Starsky's shoulder lightly. "But this is Watson; an old man who's living all by himself. A little compassion would go a long way with him, and he may not even notice a robbery going on right under his nose."

"Right under his nose," Starsky muttered. _Or maybe just across the room, right in front of his eyes, but I still can't figure it out._

Starsky closed his eyes, picturing a young girl who took care of her uncle and loved him for not so selfish reasons as Edward portrayed her. Holley may have known about the money. And if she wanted to make sure that no one stole it from Watson what would she do? She couldn’t take it to the bank because Watson didn’t want his money in a bank. She couldn’t leave it in the mattress, either. So what would she do?

Starsky snapped his head up, his eyes widened.

"What?"

"You are a genius, Hutch."

"I am?" Hutch asked, and then agreed. "Of course I am." 

"I think I know where the money is. Son of a gun! Why didn’t I see this before?"

"What? Where?"

"Right under Watson's nose. Come on. We have to go talk to Watson."

*****

Nan used to tell little Davey that the best clues were right under your nose. The best place to hide something was the one place people would never think it would be; like the thimble on the finger. Little Davey never had anything to hide. He wore his heart right on his sleeve. Little Kenny was very good at hiding his feelings, until he grew up and met Davey. 

"Detective Starsky. You are back. Did you find the antelope?" Mr. Watson asked as soon as he saw Starsky.

Hutch furrowed his brows. _Antelope?_

"Don’t ask," said Starsky under his breath.

Starsky walked right up to the hand crafted wall decoration that was done by Holley. He carefully removed it from the wall and turned it to the other side. He ran his fingers along the seams and over the quilt.

"I'll be damned," said Hutch walking over to Starsky.

"Yup. It's all here." Starsky said triumphantly and turned to face Watson. "No one stole your money. Holley took it and put it in a safer place for you."

"She did?" asked Watson, frowning a little bit. He touched the quilt and looked up at Starsky. "Yes. Of course she did. Now I remember." Watson's eyes shone with delight. "She told me about it before she left. She told me to take care of the quilt."

 _"Now he remembers,"_ muttered Hutch.

"She said any color in the crayon box could figure out where the money was the way I was attached to the mattress."

"Clever girl, that Holley," Starsky agreed. "And being attached to the quilt where fond memories were displayed would be quite normal."

Mr. Watson's hand shot out and gripped Starsky's arm at his wrist. "So… who stole my bed?" 

"Rudolph had a cold, Mr. Watson," Starsky said gently, covering Mr. Watson's arm with his. "He had trouble finding where the money was." 

***

Happy at solving the case right before Christmas and about Watson getting his money back, Starsky and Hutch decided to finish the case report before leaving work. 

Captain Dobey would be pleasantly surprised by their work. Starsky was going to make sure of it by submitting the case report before Christmas Eve. He inserted a paper into the typewriter and rubbed his palms, gleefully.

Hutch took a peek at Starsky's report and read the first sentence. _Mr. Watson woke up to the slaying of slay-bells._

Hutch chuckled. Captain Dobey was about to get a _very pleasant surprise_ , indeed.  

***

**Christmas Day.**

For Hutch, the sun rose and set each day simply because Starsky was in his world. For Starsky, Hutch was the light that kept him from tripping over the deep holes and cracks that mysteriously appeared in the sidewalk when he travelled in the dark. 

Hutch knocked and entered Starsky's apartment on Christmas morning, carrying a big crate in his arms. Starsky had announced that he was going to be in charge of all the Christmas cooking after the two had planned to have a quiet dinner by themselves this year.

_"But I can help you, Starsk. You don't have to do all of it by yourself," Hutch insisted._

_"Nah-- you do most of the cookin' throughout the year. So I'm gonna do somethin' for you, all by myself. "_

By the looks and the heavenly smells that were emanating from Starsky's kitchen, Hutch's taste buds were on high alert. He placed the parcel he had wrapped with a brown wrapping paper he found in his apartment that morning under Starsky's beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Hutch had wanted to buy real Christmas wrapping paper for Starsky's sake, but had forgotten all about it. He hoped Starsky wouldn't mind. 

"Hey, Hutch." Starsky waved from the kitchen. "Merry Christmas, partner." 

"Merry Christmas, Starsk." Hutch walked over to the dining table. "Smells good. What have you been up to?" Hutch asked, eyeing all the goodies Starsky had laid on the dining table. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, eggnog, dinner rolls and bread, and a pumpkin pie. "Did you prepare all of these by yourself?"

Starsky grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know, huh?"

"Looks great, really."

"Just five minutes until the green bean casserole is done." 

"Green beans? Since when did _you_ start eating vegetables, Starsk?"

"You like it. Not a big deal. It's very easy to make. Ma gave me the recipe," Starsky said, handing over the plates to Hutch. "Now be a good boy and get the rest of the stuff. I'm starving."

"You want to eat?" Hutch asked surprised. "Don't you want to check the Christmas presents, first?" 

"Sure, but umm... Hutch, I'm kind'a hungry. Can we look at the presents after eating?" 

"Wow-- that's a first," said Hutch, patting Starsky on the back. "You couldn't wait to get your hands on Christmas gifts-- you wanted them _before_ Christmas, and today, you want to wait until _after_ we eat?"

Starsky's stomach rumbled.

Hutch burst into a fit of laughter. "Okay, okay. I got the message," he said, patting Starsky's stomach. 

***

Hutch couldn't remember when he had eaten this big a meal before. Everything was delicious. Perfect. His partner was always full of surprises. _Did he really cook all of that? Did Huggy help him?_

"Ready for your present?" Starsky sat beside Hutch, handing him a glass of wine. 

"What did you get me this time, Starsk?"

"Me? I didn't get you anything. 'Twas Santa who brought that for you." Starsky gestured, swiping his chin towards the Christmas tree. 

"Uh-huh." Hutch walked over to the Christmas tree and picked up the big box that had his name on it. "When did he visit you?"

"Open it. Will ya?" Starsky said, impatiently. 

Hutch studied the red and green very Christmas-like wrapping paper for few seconds. He carefully untied the red ribbon and removed the paper. He didn't necessarily like Christmas, but over the years his partner had converted him into a Christmas-tolerant spirit.

"Starsk?" He gently ran his fingers over the contents. "Gran Prix Filbert Brushes. The whole set? This must've cost you--"

"Like I said, you'd have to ask Santa," Starsky said, enjoying Hutch's surprise and delight. "So… you like it? Santa wasn't very sure which ones he should choose, you know." 

"Always wanted a good set of brushes when I was a kid, but my parents thought it was just a waste of money and time for me to spend time on art."

"Well… Santa doesn't think so."

Hutch surprised Starsky by hugging him tightly. "Thanks, buddy."

"Like I said--" Starsky started.

"Yeah, yeah. I know-- _Santa_!" Hutch smiled, letting Starsky away from his grasp. "So you want to open yours." Hutch tipped his head over to the crate.

"Sure!" Starsky sat at the Christmas tree and picked up the crate Hutch had brought in. He gently removed the brown paper. This is what Hutch drew, after all, even it was a red _tomato_. "Jeez!" Starsky gasped at the painting! "How? When?" Starsky was speechless. "This wasn't--" 

"Wasn't _what_?" Hutch asked, laughing. "What were you expecting, Starsk? A _red tomato_?" 

Starsky eyed him apologetically. "Where the hell did you hide this?"

"Me? Hide? What are you talking about? _Santa_ delivered it last night, Starsk!"

"Hutch… this…" Starsky said, examining a magnificent driver side front view painting of his beloved Torino. Hutch had captured all details of the car; not just a red Torino with a white stripe, but everything. The thin black lining around the white stripe, the width in correct proportions, how it tapered towards the front and stopped just before reaching the edge. Starsky drooled at the wheels that were shiny and as real as his Magnum 500s. He ran his fingers along the edging of the wheel well that was so precisely done in silvery white paint. 

Tongue tied and overwhelmed with joy, Starsky swallowed hard a couple of times not trusting himself to speak. Leaving the painting leaning against a chair, Starsky walked over to his partner. He hugged Hutch tightly and smacked him with two kisses on the cheeks. "I don't know what to say," he said gruffly.

Hutch blushed to his roots. "I… err… I thought you may have seen it." 

"I… well…" Starsky stalled. He looked as guilty as a kid caught in his hand in the cookie jar. "I saw a red tomato." 

Hutch chuckled. "Serves you right for being a peeping Tom."

Starsky's lips curved in a smile. He had acted exactly as Hutch had thought he would. He was too angry and distressed to even think that it was a prank played on him by Hutch. He assumed the worst and left in a hurry that day. Most probably the Torino painting may have been right under his nose. But Hutch loved him like no one would, safeguarding the secret and surprising him with his gift for Christmas. There simply wasn't anyone in this whole world who loved him the way Hutch did.

Starsky went back to the painting and sat on the floor beside it. It was too good to be true. _This is what magic is. This is what Christmas is all about. And Hutch… He has kept the spirit of Santa Claus alive even though he'd never admit it._ "Thanks, Hutch," Starsky shortened everything he felt into two words. 

Smiling softly, Hutch joined Starsky on the floor. He placed his hand on Starsky's knee. "I… err… there's something I need to say." 

Starsky tore his eyes away from the painting and turned around to face Hutch. "Yeah?"

"I may not believe in magic, Starsk. And I may not even believe in miracles. But I believe that some people are magical and that they make miracles." 

Starsky wasn't sure where the conversation was heading. But he remained silent, searching Hutch's eyes and end up getting lost in their depth.

Hutch took Starsky's hands in his. "When everything around me falls apart, I only have to look at you, Starsk. It's like this bubble bursts inside me, and suddenly everything is back to normal. I feel warm and fuzzy. My whole world lights up and there's nothing to be afraid of because there are no dark corners for monsters to hide. With you there aren't any boundaries I have to cross. I don’t have to worry about being perfect around you, because you make me whole and perfect."

Starsky's eyes brimmed with tears. His lips trembled a little. Wasn't this how _he_ felt about Hutch? 

"Starsk…" Hutch continued. "What I'm trying to say is that… I don't need to believe in magic and I don’t have to wish for miracles. I have you."

Starsky managed a smile through all the emotions that were tumbling him over and around. He freed one hand from Hutch's hold and touched Hutch's cheek, gently. 

Hutch grabbed Starsky's arm before he pulled back, and held it in its resting place. 

Outside Starsky's apartment, the sugar pine tree swayed gently in rhythm to the wind; its needles danced and rustled to the music of the sleigh bells that softly jingled and tingled into the breezy night.

*********************************************************************

 


End file.
